


a winter's tale of pine and snow

by kremlin



Series: to burn like tinder series [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-14 11:14:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13006614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kremlin/pseuds/kremlin
Summary: Professor Rowan Whitethorn teaches Art History at Velaris U. He loves his job, if only it weren't for those damn history majors, who need to take his class for some mandatory credit. And one student especially gets right under his skin.





	1. Chapter 1

Rowan hated her. She belonged to the small group of history majors, who had no place in his class ‘Native Prythian Art 101’, at least not as far as he was concerned. He couldn’t fathom why the university forced them to take credits in Arts History, when all those idiots bothered to do was to cram historic dates into their blank heads to spew them out for exams. The deeper, underlying intricacies of art were lost on them.

The main reason he hated her was that he heard her claim she had some Fae heritage, probably for the sake of college application, which made his hackles rise whenever his eyes fell on her. As full blooded Fae, this exploit of his people's culture for the sake of gaining benefits made him want to slaughter everyone who claimed said heritage. At least that was, until he found out one of her names was Ashryver, and they were indeed a prominent Wendlyn family of Fae descent, living not too far from Doranelle, where he was born and raised. In fact, his family had some family ties with the Ashryvers that went far back. And he knew an Ashryver married into the former president’s family. His great aunt Maeve had told him so, after the assassination of President Galathynius and his family 10 years ago, the lone survivor being the president’s 8 year old great-niece: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, who had vanished in the aftermath of her family’s death and kept out of the public eye, until she had reemerged in his class and made his blood boil on sight.

Her being practically royalty was the other main reason Professor Rowan Whitethorn hated the Galathynius girl. She was a spoiled princess. Arrogant, fickle and lazy. Every week, she swaggered into his class, hips swaying and eyelashes fluttering, a flock of blushing admirers at her beck and call. She didn’t even bother taking notes during his lectures, instead she picked at her nails or stared out of the window, or threw him murderous glances from under her lashes when she thought he didn’t see. More than once, she had stumbled into his class, visibly hungover or still drunk from last night’s party.

He was sure she would fail his class, only she breezed through his quizzes with straight A’s, having the audacity to look bored while she filled them out, flashing him smug grins when he came to collect the quiz or hand out the results. She was smart, intelligent, and intuitive and Rowan hated her all the more for it.

And probably most of all, Rowan hated her for thinking that, despite her many obvious flaws, to him, she was the most beautiful creature on earth and he couldn’t stop watching her and feeling drawn to her. Which was ridiculous, because he was a 32 year old college professor and she was a fledgling of 18 years, who had seen nothing of the world and was too arrogant and spoiled for her own good. Or so he thought.

But then he had stumbled across her one winter afternoon in the pine woods surrounding Velaris, where he had gone to mourn the death of his wife and unborn child in the fashion of the Fae. He had married young, right after high school, and he and his wife Lyra had been very much in love with each other. But Rowan was an academic and driven by his ambition to research and publish. He poured all his energy into his studies, often neglecting Lyra for the sake of another paper or a conference and later his PhD, which he obtained at the tender age of 25. Declared a prodigy in his field, he would often be away at congresses or research trips, leaving Lyra behind at home, even when she begged him not to go. And when he had come home one day, it was to find that home didn’t exist anymore - a fire had burned their place to the ground, and his wife and their unborn child with it.

So he wandered between the pines in the woods to offer them the appropriate rituals his people dictated, only to hear a similar lament to the one he had planned to give, coming from a little clearing off the path. Inching closer, he found her, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, kneeling in the snow, her face turned skywards, singing and sobbing in the Old Tongue of the Fae. It was messy and her accent sloppy, but he understood enough to realize that there was more to the girl than he had thought and the reason he felt so drawn to her maybe was because they carried a similar pain.

He planned to withdraw then, to leave her to her sorrow and the conversation with her beloved dead, but he stepped onto something and a dry snap rang through the frosty winter air, alarming her to his presence. She turned and the face he beheld was terrible in its beauty and pain: raw, unfiltered emotion filled her eyes and tears had been streaming down her face. Seeing him, her eyes grew wide and she tried to scramble to her feet, only for them to crumble beneath her weight. But Rowas was there and caught her, steadying her and holding her by her shoulders. She was ice cold, but her skin was bright pink.

“How long have you been out here?” he asked worried, rubbing her arms to bring back some of the warmth.

“As custom dictates,” she said in a ragged sob, her voice not yet under control. _All day then,_ Rowan thought and was begrudginly impressed. Most Fae he knew didn’t bother with keeping up tradition to that extent, but this little girl had, and probably not for the first time. In the middle of winter, no less.

Aelin tried to get away from him, pushing out of his arms and taking a few staggering steps back, only to crumble again. Rowan caught her and picked her up this time, to find her shivering and her breathing shallow. With a start, he realized she was likely hypothermic. So he swooped her into his arms, grabbed her rucksack that sat on the ground where she had kneeled, and hurried towards his car. It stood parked a good 15 minutes away and while he walked as fast as he could through the winter forest, Aelin started brabbling incoherent sentences and giggled for no reason. When they finally reached his car, he gently sat her on the back seat, the girl obviously delirious, grabbed a foil blanket from the first aid kit in the back to wrap her in, and hauled ass to his place. He probably should have taken her to the hospital, but it was on the other side of the city and Rowan’s house was just a 10 minute drive away.

Under her weak protest, he carried her into his living room and set her on the couch, making quick work of her clammy, frozen clothes and undressed her to her underwear. If he hadn’t been so panicked, he might have found the situation of him undressing a 18 year old female student of his in his living room improper, scandalous even, but with her well-being and potentially her life on the line, he really didn’t gave a shit. He took off his own sweater and shirt and hugged her to his bare chest, bundling her into all the blankets he had managed to find. Rowan knew from experience he had to warm her torso first and bring up her body temperature slowly, his own body heat being best way to do it. Putting her into a warm bath would be a grave mistake, same as warming her hands and feet without the rest of the body.

They sat like that for several hours, Rowan closely monitoring her breathing, lest it stop. When she started shifting in his arms and protesting meekly, he knew she was warm enough to let the blankets take over and he released her out of his embrace. But when she tried to get up, he pushed her back onto the couch and threatened to fail her in his class, if she dared move even an inch. Aelin gave him a frown and a corresponding pout. Rowan glowered right back at her until she relented and reclined onto the couch. He donned his shirt and sweater and while he did, he could feel her gaze lingering on the tattoo that snaked from his left temple down his neck and spilled over his shoulder, arm and side down to his waist. It was the story of how he had lost Lyra and their child, a stigma he would carry for the rest of his live, written in the Old Tongue. After hearing her lament, he suspected she was able to decipher some parts, but she didn’t comment on it and averted her gaze when he had covered it with his clothes.

Throwing her another dark look to remind her not to move from under the blankets, he went to the kitchen to brew some tea for her. He added some slices of ginger, to ensure she would warm right up, and carried a whole can of tea and a mug back to the living room. Rowan poured her a mug and wordlessly handed it to her. Then he tucked in the blankets underneath her feet, so no cold draft could creep under the blanket and hit het. Aelin chuckled and Rowan felt relief course his system at the sound. Instead of showing this though, he frowned at her.

“Professor, if I didn’t know any better, I would say, you are fussing,” she said in a shaky voice, laced with amusement, but still weak.

Rowan stared at her, then the cup, then her again and jerked his chin in a silent command for her to drink. She chuckled again and blew on the hot brew, before taking a sip. Finding that it didn’t scald her tongue, she took another. That was good enough for Rowan and he started collecting her discarded, soggy clothes to throw them into the dryer.

When he came back this time, he found that Aelin had lain down, the still relatively full mug of tea discarded on the coffee table.

“Drink the damn tea, Aelin!” he growled. He wanted nothing more than to shove it down her throat by force. The girl had the audacity to raise an eyebrow at him.

“First name basis already? And there I thought you hated me. Are you actually fond of me, Rowan?” She gave him a little infuriating smile. Rowan bristled and picked up the mug, practically shoving it into her face.

“Drink. And it’s still Professor Whitethorn for you.” He didn't want to admit, but to hear her say his name stirred some peculiar emotions deep inside him. And he couldn't have that.

“Buuuh,” she pouted, but shifted on her back and propped herself against the armrest, so she could still lie down and drink at the same time. Rowan busied himself with the blankets again, because some had come loose with her shifting. Aelin muttered something that sounded like _fussing_ and _overbearing bastard_ under her breath, but Rowan pretended he didn’t hear. He had to admit, he _was_ fussing with her. He couldn’t shake off the images of her kneeling in the snow, the look of pain in her face before she had collapsed. She had looked so small, so vulnerable. He felt the sudden, strong urge to protect her and take care of her. Not that he would ever admit it. Especially not to her.

“I’ve thrown your clothes in the dryer. You’re not leaving before they are dry and you have finished this can of tea and can stand on your own two feet without shivering and staggering, am I clear?” he stated firmly.

Aelin gave him another cocky smile. “You _are_ fussing! And I take as soon as I am well again, you will chew me out for being stupid enough to spend the day in the woods alone and getting hypothermia on top of it, and how I would have died, if you didn’t come along.”

Rowan nodded. “You bet.”

Aelin laughed a bitter laugh and drank her tea.

“You didn’t ask me what I was doing there,” she said suddenly.

Rowan looked into her eyes and thought he saw a shadow of that earlier emotions. Her stunning blue eyes he hadn’t cared or dared to inspect closely so far. They were still slightly red and puffy from crying. A ring of light brown, almost gold, ringed the pupil of her otherwise almost turquoise eyes. Her gaze was mesmerizing.

“Because I know. I was about to do the same,” he said calmly. Her eyes widened in surprise and her eyes flickered to the left side of his face, where his tattoo was visible, and then down his body.

“My wife, Lyra, and our child,” he explained, motioning to the tattoo now mostly hidden by his clothes. “The story of their death and how I failed them.” He didn’t know why he told her, he never told anyone, and certainly not a student of his, but after being privy to her sorrow by accident, he felt he should share some of his.

Her mask crumbled and understanding filled her eyes, a haunted look overcoming her features. Because that’s what her cocky bravado and arrogance had been: a mask to hide the pain underneath.

“His name was Sam and it’s my fault he died,” she said with almost eerie calm. “And my friend Nehemia and my mother’s friend Marion. They all died because of me.”

Rowan didn’t offer words of condolences, because he knew they wouldn’t do any good. Instead he told her his story of Lyra, of his neglect towards her, the mistakes he had made and how he had lost her. Aelin listened, she too not offering the hollow phrases convention dictated, but she shared her stories in return. And then they sat in silence, Rowan refilling her cup of tea when it was empty and Aelin drinking, until he refilled it again. When she had finished the whole can, he gently plucked the cup from her fingers.

“How are you feeling?” he inquired.

“Cold,” she admitted weakly, “and tired.” Rowen eyed her with renewed scrutiny: her eyes were dull and glazed over and her face looked flushed, but no shivers racked her body.

“Sleep!” he ordered and fussed a bit with the blankets again, tucking them in under her body wherever he could, until she lay wrapped like a burrito on his couch. Really, he didn’t knew why he cared so much.

“I need to go home soon,” she whispered and gave a little scowl, but her eyes were already drifting close.

“You need to sleep. I’ll wake you later and bring you home, when your clothes are dry.” He would do nothing of the sort. She would sleep like the dead until tomorrow and he would let her. More than anything now, her body needed rest and warmth. “Is there someone I should call? A relative or someone else to let them know where you are?”

“No. There is no one to call.” A tear started pooling under her closed eyelids, but didn’t fall. His heart twisted in his chest. For all the people that he saw flocking to her on campus, was there no one she could call in a situation like this?

Aelin gave another weak sound of protest, but a few seconds later, her breathing evened out and she was under, exhaustion hitting her full force.

Rowan waited another 5 minutes to see whether she would wake again, then got up to take out her clothes from the dryer, that had finished while she was still busy with the tea. He folded them and took them to his spare bedroom. He would move the girl soon, but he had to make sure she was sleeping deep enough not to wake when he moved her from the couch.

He went back to the living room again to check on her. Her sleeping face was unguarded for once and Rowan took his time studying it, while he waited for her to enter a deeper sleep. She was beautiful. Not devastatingly so, Rowan had seen and known many women who were far more stunning. Compared to them, her features were relatively average. Her usual allure came from the way she carried herself, her confidence and her radiant smile, that dazed everyone around her. But now, she looked young and frail and vulnerable, even more so, when the single tear, that had pooled in her eye earlier, slid from underneath her closed eyes and she gave a little whimper. It tugged at his heart. He tentatively raised a hand to brush the tear away, careful not to wake her. When she didn’t stir, he carefully checked her temperature, placing his hand against her forehead. Her skin looked flushed, but she was still a bit cold to the touch. His resolve strengthened. There was no way she was going home today.

When he was sure she wouldn’t wake, he carefully scooped her up into his arms and carried her to bed. He had taken care to heat the room beforehand and had fetched his own thick feather-blanket to assure she kept warm during the night. He laid her down on the bed and slowly started peeling away the several layers of blankets he had wrapped her in.

Earlier, Rowan had been panicking, desperate to apply first aid and warm her up. But now that he was somewhat calmer, he couldn’t help but notice that she was still only in her underwear. He tried - and failed - not to look too closely at her half-naked body. It was obvious she trained. Her arms were toned, and her stomach was flat and muscled. And her legs - _her godsdamned legs._ Rowan was beyond irritated when the first stirrings of lust overcame him at the sight of her long, lean legs. He didn’t have a leg fetish or anything, but he couldn’t help but wonder how those beautiful legs felt wrapped around his waist, or propped up on his shoulders -

 _Gods, what is wrong with you, Rowan!_ He ran a hand over his face. She was 18 and his student and sick! With a sigh, he reached behind him and grabbed one of his thicker shirts that he had prepared earlier and carefully put in on her, concealing her nakedness, before covering her with his own blanket. Taking the chair beside the bed, Rowan leaned his head against his fist and began his watch.

❅☃❅

Rowan was in quite a mood as he made his way through the library in search of a certain book. He almost never bothered with the university library, seeing he had most of the literature he needed at home, or could access it through online sources, but this particular book eluded him. It wasn’t important enough for him to buy it, he merely needed it as reference, but he couldn’t find it online or via his other resources. So he had to scour the library, that was full of annoying students and whatnot. Though, if he was honest, he had been moody for weeks now. And the reason was a certain blond idiot that almost got herself killed mourning her dead and that he couldn’t get out of his head.

At 3 in the morning he had decided she wasn’t likely to die on him, so he had retreated to his own bedchamber, before he, too, collapsed from exhaustion, only to be woken again at 6 by his alarm. He had then decided, that he was in no state to teach that day, so he had called in sick, but had gotten up nevertheless. A quick check of the spare bedroom had had him convinced that Aelin had still been sleeping, so he had made his way to his kitchen and started his coffee maker. He had known he would need a lot of coffee that that.

“Professor?”

His head snapped around to where she stood in the hallway, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her long blond hair tousled and only wearing his shirt that came down to her mid-thigh, those gorgeous legs on full display. A weird sense of male satisfaction overcame him at the sight of her wearing nothing but his shirt. _Would she look like that the morning after a tumble in the sheets?_ He had no trouble imagining it. He leaving her behind in bed after a night of steamy sex to make her breakfast and her getting up shortly after, grabbing the first clothes she could get her hands on, which happen to be the shirt she had ripped of him the evening before. Rowan was beyond irritated when he felt his cock hardening.

And then she really looked at him and stilled, her lips parting softly and a faint blush overcaming her cheeks as she took him. He frowned and looked down. With a start, he realized he was topless. He always slept topless, so it hadn’t occurred to him to wear anything and he hadn’t expected her to wake up so soon.

He cleared his throat to mask his embarrassment. “I put your clothes in the room you slept in. They are dry. I also laid out some towels for you, in case you want to take a shower?”

He expected her to answer with her typical snide or flirty retort, but instead she shyly averted her eyes and blushed deeper, as she glanced down at her own attire. It was then that Rowan realized that despite the ever growing flock of admirers, she might not be very experiences with men. For some reason, that made his heart flutter.

“Uhm, okay,” she muttered and fled down the hallway on unsteady legs, involuntarily flashing her backside as she ran off. At the sight of her cheeks and panties, his cock gave a twitch. With a groan, he buried his face in his hand. _18 and your student, 18 and your student_ , _18 and your STUDENT,_ he repeated in his head. It didn’t help. He quickly went to his bedroom to don more clothes and then waited for her to emerge. When she did, her hair was dry, so she hadn't taken a shower to his relief. He didn’t know what he would have done if she had. Probably torture himself with images of her, naked in his shower, using his body wash… Rowan desperately tried to keep a straight face. When that didn’t work, he glowered.

Aelin stood before him, trying to look everywhere but at him.

“Uhm. Thank you. For yesterday. And everything,” she mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

“How are you feeling,” he asked.

“Still tired, but not cold anymore.” She bit her lip and dared to look up. Their gazes locked for a moment, before she looked away again. “I’m sorry I imposed on you and you had to take care of me,” she said softly and twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

“You’re welcome. And you didn’t impose on me. I wouldn’t have let you go home, even if you insisted. You were in no condition to do so. I’m still not sure you are now,” he stated firmly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Her embarrassment quickly gave way to anger and she shot him an impressive glare. “That’s not for you to decide,” she snarled, grabbing her rucksack and parka and stomped off towards the door. Rowan let out another sigh and trailed after her. She ignored him fully and stomped down the street, her legs wobbling visibly as she did. Rowan shook his head and went over to his car. Pulling up beside her a moment later, he lowered the car window. “Get in.”

“I will not, thank you, _professor_.” She spat that last word like it was a curse.

“Aelin, I don’t know if you realize, but you could have died yesterday. You should be in bed, better, in hospital, not walking around. Tell me where you live and I’ll take you home and leave you alone.”

She stopped dead on the sidewalk and swirled around. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I do.”

She had stared at him for several long moments, before she finally climbed into the car and grudgingly gave him an address. They drove in silence, although he felt her watch him from time to time. He pulled up at her building, but before she could get out, he grabbed her elbow and stopped her.

“If you start feeling weird, or bad, go to the hospital. Don’t wait it out.” He took out his card from his wallet and scribbled his private cell phone number on the back. “If you need help, call me. Don’t hesitate.” He stared into her eyes to make sure his message was received and held out the card for her. “Call if you need someone, anyone.”

Her gaze fell onto the card and she swallowed, before reaching for it. “Thank you,” she muttered and averted her eyes, suddenly shy again, and then she was gone.

The next week, she hadn’t come to class, but she had written him an email, telling him she had caught a cold and had asked for that week's readings. The email had been on his college account. She hadn’t used his number. Rowan didn’t want to admit it, but he was disappointed she hadn’t asked for help. The week after that, she had come to class, back to her insufferable swagger and arrogant smiles, though she had nodded at him cordially and her smile had turned slightly sheepish. That night, he had dreamt of her and had woken sweaty and in need of a cold shower. Since then, he had needed several cold showers, his mood worsening with every single one he had to take.

Rushing down the labyrinth of shelves in the library now, his thoughts wandered to her again. He kept running into her, as he now was somehow attuned to her very being. He could easily glimpse her blond head in a sea of people, make out her laughter in a barrage of noise. And whenever they ran into each other, she smiled at him. Not the cute sheepish one she had given him when she had returned to class, but a kittenish grin that was accompanied by fluttering eyelashes and a slightly suggestive looks. Once, shortly after their incident, she had turned up for class in a skintight, black velvet dress, that hugged her every curve and hollow and barely covered her behind. Her legs were only covered by sheer black pantyhose and killer heels adorned her feet. She had obviously been out to party and had had no time to change. At the sight of her, Rowan’s knee had banged into the table and he hadn't dared stand for the whole lecture. He was half convinced she had done it on purpose to gauge his reaction, seeing how she kept crossing and uncrossing her long legs under the table. She must have registered the glances he sneaked at them every time she shifted, because from then on she only wore skirts, one shorter and tighter than the other. Needless to say, the frequency of those cold showers had picked up.

But he also kept noticing other things about her, now that he was not so dead set on hating her. For all the admirers she had, she didn’t let them close. He never saw her with one guy twice, never holding hands or sharing intimate glances. She laughed and flirted, but he could sometimes see shadows passing over her face, there and then gone in a flash. And he notices she watched him as well. Not with the murderous stares she used to throw his way, but contemplating looks, as if she was trying to figure him out as much as he was trying to figure out her. And then she would notice him staring and smile her seductive smile again. She was driving him crazy.

He passed by the study cubicles now and threw a reflexive glance into the booths, the way everyone did when closed space suddenly opened and one could glimpse what was inside. He had already averted his eyes, when he stopped dead and took a double take. There she was! Sitting in a booth by herself, with books stacked high around her, she sat, pouring over a textbook, a notepad and pen ready in her hand. He stared. He couldn’t help himself. It was close to 11pm. Rowan had especially come this late to avoid the day rush of students, but there she was, at this time of night, studying. Just then, a security guard sauntered over to her cubicle on his round, leaning over her booth and seemingly exchanged pleasantries with her. He wasn’t hitting on her, but rather chatting up an acquaintance. She must come to the library often for the guard to casually chat her up. Shame made his insides churn. He had misjudged her again greatly, assuming she was lazy and spoiled.

During the following weeks, he kept visiting the library late at night for more reference material, although he could have gotten it through other sources. And every time, he saw her sitting in the same booth, a stack of books towering around her, studying. He never approached, but took a spot on the gallery or between shelves, from where he could see her easily without looking like he was observing her. Because he didn’t, did he?

“Are you eventually going to say hello?”

Rowan jolted out of his thoughts and found her staring at him with this magnetic gaze of hers. He had been inching closer to her booth every time and today he had dared sitting in plain sight, close enough to hear her ruffle through papers or leaf through her mountain of books. He hadn’t been able to stay away, it was like she was a center of gravity, pulling him towards her.

“It’s been almost two weeks since you suddenly show up in the library around this time, yet you never say hello.” She smiled a wry smiled and watched him with her head cocked, like a predator accessing his prey.

“Even a professor needs to look up reference material, Miss Galathynius,” he answered cooly.

Her eyes turned cold and her smile faltered for a moment, before she plastered it back to her face. “I liked Aelin better, _professor._ ” She almost spat out the last word.

He nodded and ignored her, returning to his text. Really, what was he doing? Where had the self-control he prided himself with gone? Evidently shredded to ribbons by the girl, who now scowled at him from behind her books. He should stand and leave and avoid the library, as he did before. Better, he should avoid her. But he couldn’t.

“So?” she asked in a flippant tone. He raised an eyebrow at her in question. “Are you going to say hello, or are you gonna keep pretending you don’t see me, although the only reason you bother with the library at all is me sitting here every night?”

Rowan stiffened, taken-aback. She had noticed. _How had she noticed?_ And now she probably thought him a depraved pervert who stalked her through the library, because he couldn’t get her out of his mind after taking care of her for one night and seeing her vulnerable side. Wrong, that’s what _he_ thought he was.

Rowan clenched his teeth and started packing his stuff. She was staring at him in stunned silence when he stood up, gave her a curt nod and walked out of the library as fast as he could without looking like he was fleeing. He was held back at the entrance as the alarm went off, because in his rush, he had stuffed everything into his basket, forgetting the three books he had taken from the shelves earlier and hadn’t borrowed yet. Furious with himself, he went back to the counter to have the contents of his bag checked and borrow the books, before he could finally leave the library. Anger and mortification was stewing inside him, and it must have shown on his face, because the poor clerk at the desk shook in terror while he was handling Rowan’s request.

When he could finally leave, he stormed towards his office, and slammed the door shut behind him, before sinking into his chair and burying his face in his hands. This couldn’t go on. He was going to go mad. Or worse, do something really, really stupid. He needed to get away from her. But how?

A knock on his door startled him out of his misery. It was late at night. There was only one person who could knock on his door at this hour, knowing he would be here. Dread pooled in his stomach, his gut clenching as if ice was freezing inside of it.  “Yes?”

She opened the door and came in, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. “What happened just now?” Aelin asked softly.

“That’s none of your concern, Miss Ga-”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “Why do you insist calling me that all of a sudden?”

“You’re my student, what else should I call you?” he growled, his roiling emotions quickly shifting towards anger. This girl, no, this woman got under his skin like no one else had before.

“Aelin. Call me Aelin. Like you did before.”

“You’re my student,” he repeated again.

“That didn’t stop you before.”

“Those were other circumstances. You were in danger and I was panicking. You’re my student and-”

“Stop saying that!” she seethed and angry tears sprang into her eyes. “Stop saying you're my professor and I’m your student, when I see you looking at me the way you do. You think I’m blind? Do you think I don’t notice that hungry look you get on your face, when I come to class in a skirt? Don’t you think I notice how you hover around me and how you glare at all guys that talk to me? You think I’m dumb and don’t realize you want me? Why can’t I have you then? Why can’t I call you by your name and -”

“Because you’re 18 and my student and I can’t get involved with you.”

The words rang hollow in his own ears and by the look on her face, she didn’t believe one word of it, either.

“And if I weren’t your student?” she shot back.

“But you are, Aelin,” he stated firmly. A ghost of her smile appeared on her lips hearing him finally use her name, but her face hardened,

“Then you don’t get to want me. Stop looking at me, stop being around me. Leave me alone,” she choked out. And then she left.


	2. Chapter 2

She didn’t turn up for class that week. Or the next. Or the one after that.  

Rowan felt like he had become frozen, like all warmth had been stolen from him. He mostly worked on auto-pilot, he couldn't bring himself to care about food, or work, or anything basically. He knew he looked stern and intimidating on a good day, but now his students had started flinching when he laid eyes on them. He avoided the library like the plague, as well as all the other places he knew she would likely hang around, and he suffered for it. She had done the right thing by keeping away, because he hadn’t been able to, but it wrecked him. With horror, he realized he wasn’t just lusting after her, he had fallen in love with her and know he couldn’t fall out of it. Somehow, she had crept into his heart and sunk her claws in it. And then she had taken chunks out of it when she had left. When he had made her leave.

Rowan couldn’t bear overlooking the exam during finals, he was too afraid she would show up and he would keel over in her presence and do something ridiculously stupid. So he forced the task on one of his grad students and spent the day as far away from university as he could, not trusting himself to be anywhere near the location she was likely to be at. He was sure Aelin would turn up for the exam, she needed the credits and she had sat in his class for most of the semester after all. She would be dumb not to. And she wasn’t dumb. She was sharp, and intelligent, and witty, and beautiful. And she deserved to be with someone, who saw all that in her and loved her like she deserved it. And she would find him, after she had gotten over her infatuation with him, because that was all that it was, Rowan was sure of it. She wasn’t in love with him. She couldn’t be.

Rowan knew she had been sitting the exam when he was grading the papers in his office the week after finals. Aelin had gotten an A, of course. For a moment, he debated giving her a slightly worse grade, afraid that someone might call favoritism, because if Aelin had noticed the way he had looked at her, others might have, too. But no, her grade was what it was and the grading was transparent and would pass scrutiny. Aelin had earned that grade.

Rowan leaned back in his desk chair and exhaled with a sigh. It was finally over. She had passed his class, gotten her credit and would likely never show up before him again, because she was a history major in the first place. His heart constricted and with a start, he even felt tears stinging his eyes, but it was better this way. She had her whole life before her. Someone like her, someone with her potential, if she wanted, she could rattle the stars. He had secretly inquired with some of his colleagues from the history department, she was a straight A student there, too. Intelligent and with the background she had, she could go anywhere from here on. Rowan had no right to hold her back. He would get over her at some point and move on with his life. Even if it took a while.

❅☃❅

Rowan didn’t bother looking up when he heard the knock. “Come in.”

He was frowning at one of his student’s thesis proposals and he didn’t like what he saw. They would need to go over it again.

“Rowan.”

He stiffened hearing her voice. Slowly, as if afraid to break the spell, he raised his head. There she stood, in his office, radiant and beautiful like the last time he’s seen her, like he remembered. And she looked nervous as hell. He could see it in the way she played with the ends of her hair. And the way her lopsided grin didn’t convince him. It kept flickering around the edges. He stared at her, transfixed, and didn’t speak.

Aelin took a deep breath. “The semester is over,” she declared.

Rowan nodded.

“And I have written the exam and gotten my grade,” she continued. Rowan didn’t understand where she was heading, but he nodded again. With an almost impatient gesture, she flicked her hair long hair back over her shoulder.

“I have gotten all the mandatory Arts History credits I needed. So I’m no longer your student and won’t be ever again,” she concluded and placed her hands on her hips, tapping into that cocky attitude of hers. “I demand you take me out on a date, Rowan. Because the last few weeks have been hell and I missed you like crazy and you can’t give me that bullshit excuse of me being your student anymore.”

Slowly, carefully, Rowan stood from his chair, the thesis proposal discarded on the table. He slowly circled his desk and stood before her, still not speaking. Instead, he gave her his best glower, staring at the impertinent woman he was so desperately in love with and tried not to be. If she was intimidated, she didn’t show, because she only took another deep breath and continued her insolent rant.

“I don’t know what your problem is, why you think you can’t get involved with me. You probably think I’m a kid and this is a silly crush on my part, or I have daddy issues because my father died when I was young, but, fact is, I love you, you big brute and I will be damned i-”

Aelin didn’t get to say the rest of her little speech, because in one swift motion, Rowan had her pressed against his office door and his lips pressed to hers. Grabbing her thighs, he picked her up and held her against the door with his body, while he desperately claimed her mouth with his. She tasted like lemon, probably her chapstick, and her lips were impossibly soft. Aelin’s fingers plunged into his hair and she returned the kiss with the same frenzied intensity, opening her mouth to invite him in before he could ask for it. They kissed long and hard and when they finally broke apart, both of them were panting heavily. Their foreheads came together and Rowan loosened his hold on her, blatantly letting her body slide down his slowly. He could feel her tremble slightly when her breasts brushed over his chest and he had to stifle a moan when she pressed her body flush back against his once she had firm ground beneath her feet again.

“I was going crazy missing you,” he admitted huskily. “And I love you, too. More than you know.”

Her bottom lip wobbled and silver lined her eyes. “Rowan,” she cried softly and pulled him into another kiss, less heated this time. But Rowan quickly broke away when he heard laughter coming from the hallway.

“We shouldn’t be doing this in my office, no matter you’re my student or not,” he said, gently peeling himself away from her body. Aelin gave a delicious little pout and he couldn’t resist: he kissed her again, biting softly at her bottom lip. She gave a little moan that almost had him press her against the door again. Instead, he braced a hand on the wood behind her and bend his head to rest it on her shoulder. “ _Gods_ , Aelin.”

She ran one hand through his hair, cradling his head, and ran the other over his back.

“Should I come over to your place later?” she asked, her breath caressing the shell of his ear and sending shivers down his spine. He drug up his lasts scraps of self-control and pushed himself off the door and receded to his desk, needing the physical barrier between them to help restrain himself. Bracing his hands on the table, he looked at her. She was still leaning against the door, her face flushed, her pink skin contrasting with her bright turquoise-and-gold eyes, making them even more prominent. Her delicious lips were slightly parted and she was still breathing heavily. Rowan pressed his hands harder into the wood.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” he stated flatly. The little scowl she gave him was just too adorable. Rowan mentally slapped himself for being the love-struck fool he was. She probably could have attacked him with a knife and he would've found it endearing.

“Why?” she asked, sounding offended.

“Aelin, I can barely keep my hands off you in my office. I don't think I could control myself when we're alone at my place.”

Color bloomed high on her cheeks, and her mouth formed a perfect little _O_. But then her surprise or embarrassment sparked that fire that burned so hotly inside of her and she snapped, “who said you had to?”

And that fast, she was back to being the fiery pain in his ass he thought he had hated, but has secretly come to love. “I'll swing by at your place at 8. And I'm staying over, “ she declared with a menacing stare, before flicking her hair back once more and throwing the door open. “See you later, Professor Whitethorn,” she said with a wicked little smile, that made his blood boil and his cock twitch in response, and walked away.

Rowan stared after her, willing himself to calm down. _Shit. He was in such deep, unending shit._

❅☃❅

Aelin breathed a content little sigh and placed a kiss on his chest, close to his heart. She lay sprawled over his chest in all her naked glory and Rowan applied languid strokes to her bare back, tracing the lines of the scars that marred the beautiful skin there. The first time he had seen them, cold fury had overtaken him and he had wanted to kill whoever had done this to her. But she had shaken her head, kissed the knuckles of his fisted hands and told him her story in a calm and detached manner, as if she was narrating another's life. And then she had seduced him, which hadn't been difficult at all. He was putty in her hands. She had him rolling around in the palm of her hand and with a flutter of her eyelashes or the flash of a smile, she could ask anything of him and he willingly followed her every whim. He was a damn fool, but he couldn’t help it. He had completely fallen victim to her.

That first night, she had arrived on his doorstep at 8pm sharp, wearing that sinful piece of black velvet and sheer black thighs like that one time in class. The one that had had him devour her with his eyes, as she later claimed. Rowan had decided, that resistance was futile. She hadn’t even gotten three words out, before he had pounced on her, picked her up and carried her to his bedroom, shedding layers of clothing left and right as they went. The thighs didn't survive the night and Rowan wasn't sure his sanity had, either. They spent all night and most of the next day holed up in his bedroom and Rowan finally found out what her beautiful legs felt like wrapped around his waist or head while he worshipped her body repeatedly.

That had been 6 months ago and since then, they hadn't spent one single night without being entangled in each other, be it for sex or simple cuddling. Aelin had practically moved into his place, but kept her apartment for appearances sake and to use it at as walk in closet for her extensive wardrobe. He wasn't her teacher anymore, but he was still a college professor and she was a student at the same university; society didn't look nicely at situations like theirs.

So far, they had been able to ignore or fend off the consequences of their decision to be together, but now they were slowly catching up with them, looming over the pair like the sword of Damocles. Rumors had started spreading around school, because even if they were careful to keep their distance at uni, Aelin had been spotted coming to and leaving from his house on several occasions. They couldn't hide how often she was around (which was always), and they didn't want to limit their time together just because of his nosy neighbors. The bored housewife’s and stay-at home parents would run their mouths all the same if Aelin only came over once a week, so there was really no point limiting their time together. Yet, recently, the danger of their relationship being exposed had become real.

“The dean wants to have a talk with me sometime next week,” Rowan said solemnly.

He felt Aelin stiffen in his arms. “You think, it’s about us?

“Likely.”

Aelin fell quiet and Rowan continued stroking her back and ran his hand over her long blond tresses.

“Darrow has caught wind as well.”

That had Rowan furrow his brow and glance down at her. She pushed off him and propped herself onto her forearms. Her hair fell like a veil around her, tumbling around her shoulders and spilling down her back. She looked lovely, even when she was scrunching up her face in worry.

“What does he want this time?” Rowan growled.

Weylan Darrow had been her great-uncle’s partner, they had had plans for marriage. After the President's death, he had dedicated himself to upkeep the memory of Orlon Galathynius and spreading his legacy, raising charities and foundations in his name while circling the upper tiers of the political stratosphere. Because he was of no blood relation to Aelin, he hadn't bothered with searching for her more than decency dictated when she had seemingly vanished at age 8. Rowan know knew where she had spent the last 10 years, and he had a bone to pick with her foster parent Arobynn Hamel, but that would have to wait for now. They would have to deal with Darrow first. Since Aelin had resurfaced to the public eye, Darrow lived in constant fear of her destroying his work and influence, because it was her that was the heir to the Galathynius name and fortune. And Aelin was not a meek 18 year old that could be influenced by him into following his lead. Not that he didn’t try.

“It appears, he has planted someone here in Velaris to report back to him about what I do. They told them about us. And it seems dating a college professor, a Fae on top of that, doesn't go well with his plans for me. I think he planned to introduce me to someone, probably some southern politician’s weak-willed son, whose father wants the glamor of the Galathynius name. He called me last night and rambled about upkeeping appearances and thinking about what my family would have said and so on. He even mentioned some names, I think I heard him say something about Grayson Nolan, whoever that is.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust and Rowan pinched it to distract her.

“And what did you say?”

“That who I’m dating is none of his fucking business, of course. But it had me thinking about something.” A wicked gleam entered her eyes.

Rowan sat up, immediately alarmed. He knew that look too well by now. “Aelin, what are you planning?”

She slowly sat up and straddled him, her knees resting on either side of his hips. And then she gave him a truly diabolic smile as she leaned in and whispered her plan into his ear.

❅☃❅

Rowan was nervous. Really nervous. But as usual it only showed in his frown deepening and him growing even more taciturn. The dean’s secretary kept casting frightened glances in his direction, as if she was nervous he would attack her any moment now.

Rowan was waiting for his appointment with the dean, who had, as suspected, summoned him to discuss the rumors regarding his relationship with a student. Aelin’s name had not come up yet.

“P-Professor Whitethorn, s-sir?” Rowan looked (glared) at the secretary. She flinched and shrunk in her chair, trying to make herself smaller than she was. “Dean Thesan is r-ready to see you n-now.”

Rowan nodded in thanks and walked towards the dean’s office. When he reached for the doorknob, he found his hand shaking. He quickly clenched it onto a fist and took a steadying breath, unclenching his hand as he exhaled, before opening the door.

“Ah, Professor Whitethorn. Come in, come in.” The dean, who was standing behind his desk, waved him closer.

“Dean Thesan,” Rowan replied with a curt nod of the head and took a seat in front of his desk. He knew better than to try shake Thesan’s hand. His fear of germs was legendary. Thesan sat down as well and interlaced his fingers, resting them on top of the table. He regarded Rowan with a grave face.

“Professor, I'm afraid I have called you here to discuss a rather… delicate matter,” he began. When Rowan didn't reply but simply kept looking (glaring) at him, he shifted a bit uncomfortably in his seat and continued. “You see, Rowan - can I call you Rowan? - there have been some rumors regarding you and a student of yours. According to those rumors, your relationship seems to be somewhat… improper.”

He took extra care to put some stress on that last word and Rowan wanted to laugh. Improper had been exactly the word he would have used to describe their relationship, when she had still taken his class.

Fighting to keep a straight face (which resulted in him frowning at Dean Thesan) he asked, “What exactly does improper entail, sir?”  

Thesan looked flustered and reddened visibly. “Oh, well, you see. The rumors concern the nature of your… ahem… relationship with the student. Apparently, she has been seen... frequenting your house quite regularly, in the evening, no less.” Whatever he deducted from that, he left unsaid. It was clear enough what such visits implicated.

“And the student in question, sir?” Rowan asked.

Thesan looked at him sharply. “A freshman. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.”

Rowan gave a nod to acknowledge that the name was not unknown to him. “Aelin is not my student, sir,” he stated calmly.

The dean looked visibly confused. “Excuse me?”

“Aelin took a class with me during her first semester. Native Prythian Art 101. We didn't start seeing each other until after the semester ended and she was no longer my student,” he clarified.

A smug settled on Thesan’s face. “So you admit to seeing each other outside of school? Romantically?“ Rowan nodded again. “And the rumor about her staying over at your place?”

“Is true. We are living together.”

Thesan stood up and crossed his hands behind his back, perfectly miming the stern headmaster, who was about to scold a naughty pupil. “And what is the nature of your relationship?” he demanded to know. Rowan couldn't help it, he flashed a little smile.

“We are married.”

He could literally see Dean Thesan’s jaw hit the floor. “You’re… how… what?”

“Aelin is my wife. We're married. I'll gladly provide you with the marriage certificate, sir.”

It had been a rational rather than a romantic decision and of course it had been her idea. It was the perfect solution for both of them. Marrying Rowan kept Darrow and his ambitions for a political marriage off her back and he could act as her legal guardian if required. Darrow, or Arobynn, were no longer able to lay any claim to her, or her inheritance for that matter. And the university wouldn't like Rowan marrying a student, but they couldn't fire him over dating his wife.

 _His wife_. It still didn't feel real and wouldn’t for a while. After she had presented her idea, they had gotten the marriage license the very next day and went to the port in search of a captain, who was legally allowed to officiate. They paid handsomely to be taken out of the port into open water, and were married in a hurried ceremony, the ink on the marriage papers not even dry when they made back towards land. They didn’t celebrate other than downing a bottle of wine and sinking into the feathers to consummate their marriage, giggling and bubbling with excitement over their new status as husband and wife. Although for Rowan, they were not completely married until they hadn’t mated after the fashion of the Fae. But they had decided to wait for that until the time was right. A mating was not just a change of one’s legal status, but binding their souls together, becoming one with the other. They wanted to be prepared for it and take their time building their relationship, before they took that step.

“Your wife.” Thesan was opening and closing his mouth, looking very much like a fish. “Well, that is certainly unorthodox, Professor Whitethorn.” He gave a little cough, clearing his throat.

“Oh, it’s actually Galathynius now. Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius. I will probably keep using Whitethorn for work, though.”

The look on Dean Thesan’s face had him smile: the biggest, broadest smile he ever smiled and that contained the tiniest hint of smug pride.

❅☃❅

“How did it go?”

Aelin had been waiting for him outside the dean’s building. She was leaning against the wall, one foot propped up on the wall behind her, and made a show of studying her nails, but she was nervous. Rowan closed the distance between them and tugged at the end of her long braid, earning him a scowl. She swatted his hand away and when she did, the golden ring on her finger glinted in the sunlight. He caught her hand, looked at the simple band that now adorned her ring finger and felt his heart swell with love and pride to call this beautiful woman his. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her ring. Aelin blushed in response.

“Everything went as you planned. He wasn’t happy, but he won’t interfere. But we are to keep a low profile at school. He doesn’t want other professors following my example and chasing after his innocent, guilelessly freshman to trap them in matrimony right after they started college.” He smiled and his eyes sparkled playfully at her over her knuckles.

Aelin gave a snort. “He should keep an eye on those innocent and guilelessly freshman doing the chasing and trapping, not the other way around.”

On their wedding night, Aelin had made a whispered confession, hiding between the sheets of their bed. He was the sole reason she had chosen his class for her mandatory Art History credit. She had seen him during orientation and had been captivated, feeling drawn to him immediately. Only he had been shooting her hateful glances at every class, so she had started shooting them back and decided he was not worth the trouble. But then he had been so gentle and caring during her hypothermia incident and she was convinced he cared about her to some extent. She had decided to pursue him in earnest then. Because that moment he had told her about Lyra, she knew she had fallen in love with him.

“Thankfully, not every freshman is a menace like you are, Fireheart,” he shot back and Aelin threw her head back and gave a delighted laugh at hearing his nickname for her as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Last time I checked, there were quite a few eager freshmen chasing after Professor Helion. Both women _and_ men. And I swear that guy doesn’t have qualms about bedding his students. Just so you know, I actually considered taking his class instead of yours.” She smirked her wicked smile, but her eyes shone with love and adoration for him.

And for once, Rowan didn’t give a damn where they were and who might see as he leaned down and kissed his wife the way she deserved.

❅☃❅

Aelin threw her head back and hollered at something Rhysand had said, slapping him on the back. She had gotten to know him at some faculty meeting some weeks back and had liked him well enough to spontaneously invite him to their annual winter solstice party.

Rowan was standing in a corner of their living room, actively avoiding talking to anyone, as it was his preferred method of spending his time at parties (even if it was his own) and observed his target like a predator its prey. Not his beautiful wife, whom he was still deeply in love with like it was the first day, but the handsome men standing beside her. The infamous Rhysand Nash, whose family was well known and feared all the way from Velaris to the Illyrian Steppes in the north. And whose mother happened to be Illyrian, as Aelin had whispered to him conspiratorial, after she had introduced them and Rhysand had excused himself to get a drink. Rowan had immediately grown excited, because he knew of their custom of tattooing, which was so very different, yet similar to the way the Fae did tattoos. And as a researcher interested in tribal art, he couldn't let this chance to catch a glipse of Illyrian handywork slip through his fingers. Rhysand and he had talked a bit about tattoos earlier. In fact, Rhysand had inquired about the part of his tattoo that was visible on his face and then mentioned, that he had some tattoos of his own in the fashion of his mother’s tribe. But he had been reluctant to show them to Rowan. So Aelin had taken it upon herself to get Rhysand drunk, claiming she could get him to strip for her husband, the love of her life.

Only Aelin had gotten fairly drunk in the process herself as Rowan noted when she made her way over to him on unsteady feet. With a breezy laugh, she flung herself at him and nearly toppled over, so Rowan had to catch her.

“Ahh, you’re such a shentleman you are,” she slurred and tried to kiss him, only she missed his mouth and got his chin instead. Rowan laughed at her intoxicated state. It had been long since she had been able to enjoy a drink, because she had been breastfeeding their second-born, Gavriel, until recently. At 24, was a proud mother of 2 and an aspiring PhD-student. Rowan was proud to call himself her husband and father of their children.

Aelin tried to raise herself onto her toes to whisper something into his ear, but when she found her sense of balance wasn’t having it, she roughly pulled Rowan down towards her.

“I think I’ll get him to strip soon. Stay close.”

Rowan chuckled darkly. “I plan to. Always.”

His hands came up to her back to trace the lines of her scars through the fabric of her dress, lines that were now covered in tattoos in the Old Tongue, telling the stories of her beloved dead. Rowan had inked them for her before their mating ceremony a few years back. Even being inebriate, she caught the meaning behind his words.

“I love you, Ro,” she said, sounding astonishingly sober all of a sudden. And Rowan glanced at his wife, the woman he had hated with a passion, because he just hadn’t been able to stay away from her, the woman who astonished him every day with her beauty, her wit, her bravery her fiery soul. The woman who burned like wildfire and was the perfect counterpart to his ice, an equal in every way. But he was not the type to say those things aloud. He didn't need to, she knew anyways.

So he replied, “and I love you, too, Fireheart,” instead and kissed her tenderly, before playfully smacking her behind. “And now go and get Rhysand Nash to strip for me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it guys!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I apologize for the many typos in the first chapter, I was really excited about the story and rushed a bit with publishing it. I hope there were less here (you're welcome to point them out for me!).
> 
> To see, whether Aelin actually managed to get Rhys to strip and flash his tattoos, keep an eye on 'to burn like tinder'. I promise you'll meet Rowaelin there again, soon! 
> 
> Come join me on Tumblr (@howtotameyourillyrian)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies,
> 
> this story is a bonus story for my main fic "to burn like tinder". You will see how they connect in tblt's next chapter update this weekend. The second part of this story will be posted as well.
> 
> If you want to play/ask/discuss the Maasdom, come find me at tumblr (@howtotameyourillyrian)
> 
> Thanks for reading <3
> 
> p.s. also, don't ask me why, but I somehow got this idea in my head, that all the different species in Prythian represent indigenous people. For Illyrians, I mostly think about Maori (for the awesome tattoos!), so I went with thought and imagined the Fae could be like Native American or First Nations.


End file.
